


Landing Elsewhere

by Evilawyer



Category: Columbo, Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2018-01-09 23:03:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evilawyer/pseuds/Evilawyer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Different's not bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Landing Elsewhere

"Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"There's someone here to see you." Sgt. Kramer gestured toward the door.

Columbo stood from his crouch as he directed his attention from the corpse's left hand to the pale, leather-jacketed man who stood just inside the doorway. Columbo motioned Sgt. Kramer closer. "Who is he?"

"Visiting cop from England. You know. That exchange program the chief announced last month?"

"Oh, yeah." Columbo scratched his head. Turning his back to the door, he bent his head closer to his sergeant's shoulder. "What's he doing here?"

"The chief told the captain to make sure this guy gets exposed to the very best investigative techniques this department has to offer," Sgt. Kramer answered, matching Colombo's conspiratorial sotto voce. "The captain paired him up with you. Naturally."

“Naturally,” Columbo repeated in a distracted, thoughtful murmur. He looked sideways away away from his sergeant. "Hmm." He put his notepad and pencil into the right pocket of his rumpled raincoat. "What's his name?"

"Tyler. DI Tyler. Apparently, 'DI' stands for 'Detective Inspector' over there."

Colombo looked over at the figure by the door, then turned back to Sgt. Kramer. "Does he have a first name?"

"Tyler is all he told me. Detective Inspector Tyler. DI Tyler for short."

Sparing an upward glance at and nod to his sergeant, Columbo turned and walked towards his waiting guest. "Detective Inspector Tyler?"

The DI's head snapped around. "Yes?"

"I'm Lt. Columbo. I've been informed that we'll be working together while you're visiting our department."

Sam darted confused, nervous looks around the room. “I suppose that's what's supposed to happen this time,” he muttered.

If Columbo thought Sam's comment was a sign of insanity, he didn't show it. “My wife's sister, she believes in all that pre-determination stuff. Maybe she has a point, I don't know. Me, I just take it as it comes.” He studied Sam with an unstudied glance. “I hope you don't mind me saying this, Detective Inspector Tyler, but you seem uncomfortable.” 

Sam looked back at the rumpled detective in front of him. “It's just...I wasn't planning on this. I thought, when I... I was trying to get back to...my job, with the Guv, and Annie, and...That's where I expected to end up. Now, but there.” Sam looked around the room again. “This place. Los Angeles. It doesn't seem real.”

Columbo peered intently at Sam. "Do you have a first name, Detective Inspector Tyler?"

"Sam. My name is Sam."

“Maybe reality is what we make it, Sam. Now, that doesn't mean we can make everything nice, or easy, or put an end to all the terrible things that happen in the world. But maybe, if we try, we can make things real.”

Sam was quiet for a moment before saying, "You're very different from what I'm used to."

"Different's not bad, Sam. Not when it doesn't hurt anyone."

"Maybe not," Sam mused. He looked around the crime scene. "Is there anything I can do here?"

"Well, forensics are on their way. Everything's pretty much under control. Except...." Columbo shrugged. "Nah, it's nothing."

"What?" 

"I don't want to be a bother, what with you just having arrived and all. You haven't even had a chance to settle in."

"It's my job." Some of the defensive hunch eased out of Sam's shoulders.

"In that case, thank you, Sam." Columbo pulled a cigar from his raincoat pocket.

"What about you,” Sam asked before Columbo could light his cigar. “Do you have a first name?"

"Well, I do,” Columbo responded sheepishly, “but most people think it's a little strange. Only my wife calls me it now."

"What should I call you, then?"

Columbo stretched his arm out before bringing his hand to rub the back of his head. “You can call me Columbo, if you like.” He dropped his arm back to his side. “That's what my captain calls me. Everybody else just calls me Lieutenant." 

Sam had no idea where a lieutenant fell in police hierarchy in Los Angeles; judging from Columbo's embarrassed demeanor, it wasn't as high as Columbo's years on the force would typically merit. _Another mold not fit_ , Sam thought. “All right, Lieutenant,” Sam said. “Can I help?”

“Maybe you could take a look at the body. Famous author. Wrote all his manuscripts longhand. He said so in every interview he ever gave. Everything points to a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head.”

Sam looked at the corpse on the floor, noting the handgun in its right hand before crouching to inspect its left hand. “There's a callous on the inside of the first joint of the index finger.” 

“Exactly,” Colombo responded. “Which means...”

“That's where his pen rubbed.” Sam stood up. “He was left-handed.”

Columbo put his hand partially over his mouth and smiled. “Welcome to Los Angeles, Sam.”


End file.
